


Coffee Shop Days

by hogwartsjaguar



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Greg is Sweet, M/M, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft works in a coffee shop, Pre-Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-08-24 06:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16634306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hogwartsjaguar/pseuds/hogwartsjaguar
Summary: Mycroft had never thought that he would enjoy working at the Diogenes coffee house. He disliked the lunch rush, he despised making complicated drinks with more than two ingredients, and he hated serving customers.During the end of one shift, he finds a reason to enjoy the job, and it isn't just the free cake.





	1. The Disrupted Routine

There was something rather comforting about the opening and closing routines of the coffee house, Mycroft had soon discovered after his first few weeks of working at the Diogenes coffee house. He didn’t care for the job that much, but he had come to appreciate the routine of setting out cakes, organising stock, cleaning the coffee machine among other tasks at the start and end of the day. The madness of the day, the relentless lunch hour and rude customers made him appreciate the near silence of the start and end of the day. He was on his own when he opened and closed the shop,  he always offered to be the one to open and close the shop. He enjoyed the silence and the routine as he went through the procedures, he had almost found it relaxing in a way. He didn’t need to deal with customers apart from the occasional early bird or the linger at the end of the day, but they just kept to themselves and they had always tipped generously, so Mycroft didn’t mind them that much.

 

He had never thought that he would enjoy working in the coffee house, he had detested it when he had first started working in the establishment. He hated it when he was placed in front of a large pile of dishes or when he had to deal with the lunch rush. He hated having to deal with customers, he hated having to make their pretentious drinks. He hated most aspects of his job if he had to be perfectly honest. 

His mother had made him take the job in the hopes that it would improve his social skills or amend the fact that he lacked them at times. He had reluctantly taken on this trial in the return of financial assistance during his studies, as London was stupidly expensive and so was the price of the textbooks that he couldn’t get online or find in the library. It seemed almost impossible that he started to enjoy the job even when he considered it to be beneath him, the free coffee and cakes were probably the redeeming factor to the job.

 

Mycroft had started up the cleaning rituals for the end of his shift. The day had been surprisingly quiet, and it was something that he did enjoy. The lunch rush wasn’t daunting in the slightest and he had managed to cope with it on his own, Anthea wasn’t much help, she was nursing a strong hangover which was a result of the staff night out the evening before in the store cupboard and claiming that she was dying for the most of her shift until Mycroft told her to go, as to be frank, the complaining was annoying him.

 

There was one customer who was in the shop, a univeristy student perhaps, who had been bent over his books for the last few hours. He had arrived at the shop at lunchtime and had barely left his books unless it was to buy a coffee and a sandwich or to go for a cigarette.  Mycroft had not seen him before, and as far as he was aware, it was his first time in the shop. He would remember a face like that customers especially with the grin and the awkward small talk he always tried to make when he was at the counter. With the frantic way that he was typing, it was clear that he was working on an assignment or a complex piece of work, especially with the amount of frustrated sighing he would let out and how he would run his fingers through his hair. He was rather intriguing, Mycroft had thought to himself through the day.  The customer wasn’t the sort who would go to the Diogenes, they tended to be older and more professional people, not students.  Not many customers tried to make small talk with him or grin at him as he made them a latte, not many customers would even look up from their computers or anything just to grin at him or to just watch what he was doing, he was normally just invisible to most customers, just a presence who would make them coffee.

 

He allowed the customer to carry on working even as he started to close up for the night. He didn’t normally allow customers to stay after closing, but it was clear that the customer wasn’t going to be a bother. He was working on an assignment, and Mycroft felt some sympathy for him. He knew the struggle of assignments even though he was rather intelligent.  Mycroft managed to clean around him without an issue, he had managed to perfect the routine so much that he was finished within an hour on his own. The thing that took the most time was for the dishwasher to be emptied and to be cleaned out, and for the floor to be swept and mopped.

As Mycroft had started to clean the floor at the end of the day, the customer looked up from his books and muttered a quick apology. He piled up his dishes and tidied up his own table, and he made his move to grab a mop and a cloth.

 

“Sorry about staying so late, you should have said something and kicked me out,” he said as he started to clean his own table with the cloth he had taken from the table behind him. “I always hate it when customers stay past closing, you always get the ones who are a right pain as well. Is there a spray or something?”

 

Mycroft blinked in surprise. He didn’t know what to really say. He never had a helpful customer in the time that he had been working in the coffee house, most customers ignored him and left as much mess as they physically could. “You don’t need to help, I can manage on my own. I do appreciate the gesture though.”

 

“I’ve basically lived here all afternoon, Mycroft. I might as well help out,” The customer shrugged as he was searching for the cleaning spray. He picked up a spray bottle from the counter and he started to wipe down his own table and chairs, humming a song which Mycroft didn’t recognise.

 

Mycroft blinked in surprise once more, not sure how the customer knew his name. He pondered to himself for a few moments as he watched the customer clean up after himself. He had never had to deal with a situation like that before, not even his own brother cleaned up after himself especially with his experiments. He continued to clean up even though he was positive that this wasn’t company policy and was allowed.  

 

“It’s Greg by the way,” the customer said suddenly as he looked up at Mycroft and he gave him that charming grin again.  “Shame, I don’t have a name badge like yours. I have ‘Gregory,’ on my badge at work, no one calls me that, not even my nan.”

 

Mycroft scrunched his nose up at the name Greg, it was so frightfully common. He never understood why people went by shortened versions of their names, especially when it wasn’t even that much of a struggle to make it to the end of their given name. He detested when people called him ‘Mike,’ or ‘Mikey,’which was even worse. Gregory did seem like a fitting name for him, but he did look like a Greg once Mycroft had tested the name out a few times in his head. He did suit his name in both the long and shortened versions of it.

 

“You must have people getting your name wrong all the time,”

 

Mycroft looked up in surprise from the mop bucket. “What?”

 

“You must get your name butchered all the time,” Greg replied, “Mycroft is not exactly a common name, is it? I doubt that half the customers would even bother attempting to say your name, let alone say please and thank you. If you don’t mind me saying, half the customers who are here are right pricks. I don’t know why people are so rude at times. I know that I am not the most ideal customer, especially with me staying so late but at least I’m an alright bloke...Well, you are the judge of that.”

 

Mycroft let out the ghost of a chuckle, that was a good way to describe half of the patrons who had come into the shop today. “I suspect that you are expecting me to compliment you on your sweeping and thanking you for cleaning up,” he replied, a small smile coming onto his features, he looked down at the mop bucket again, suddenly feeling shy especially with the warm bark of a laugh that Greg had let out.

  
“Well, I won’t mind if you do,” Greg replied as he walked up to Mycroft and had taken the mop from him. “I have to say that you make one great cup of tea, best cup of tea that I’ve had since I’ve been in London. “

 

Mycroft was going to object to Greg taking the mop from him, but he was shushed by Greg’s warm smile and how he was shooed to the sofa in the middle of the shop floor. “Go and sit down, you’ve been on your feet all day, haven't you? I really don't mind, it's the least that I can do.  I’ve been told that I am an excellent mopper at work before. It’s one of my many talents.”

 

“You don’t need to,” Mycroft insisted quietly, he really didn’t know what to do in the situation. He had never had a customer who was so pleasant to him and he was very positive that this was against the rules. He had been in London for the last few months for univeristy and he had yet to meet that many people who were that kind to him other than a few people from work such as Anthea, most people ignored him and he liked that, it allowed him to study without being bothered by trivial things such as friendships. “You’ve done more than enough...More than what any other customer has ever done. Go home and enjoy your evening, I insist.”

 

“Might as well finish what I’ve started,” Greg replied with a shrug as he started to mop the floor. “It’s only going to take five more minutes, and  I’ve already outstayed my welcome here. You are a pretty nice bloke to talk to, I’ve barely met anyone since I’ve moved. It’s a massive change from being in a village where everyone knows everyone’s business. I'm feeling that I am a bit of a small fish in a massive ocean." 

 

“When did you arrive in London?” Mycroft asked, he decided to be at least a little bit helpful and he started to make two cups of tea in takeaway cups. He was allowed as much free tea as he wished, it was his favourite part of the job. He placed Greg’s tea on the counter with the carton of milk from the fridge and a few sugar packets, so that Greg could help himself when he was ready. 

 

“I’ve been studying in London for the last year, I just commuted and crashed on a few mates sofas,” Greg said as he scrubbed the floor with the mop, making the task look effortless. “I’ve just moved up here properly a month ago. Figured that it made sense to do so, especially since I want to work for Scotland Yard one day, actually make something of myself, you know? What about yourself? I wouldn’t expect a posh bloke like you to be working a job like this, not to be rude or anything. You just look like the blokes  who giving drink orders to the person behind the counter, instead of the other way about.”

 

“It’s nothing too exciting,” Mycroft replied as he made his own tea, deciding that he needed two sugars instead of his sweetener to cope with the events of the night. His mother would be proud of him, speaking to a stranger that he actually liked. “London is the place to be for opportunities, I have always been fond of the city, myself. It has an interesting history to it as well. ”

 

“You are not too fond of the London prices though?” Greg asked with a grin on his face. “You never realise how good you have it at home until you’ve left. That’s what my mum always said right before I moved out, like always, she’s right.”

 

“The expenses do add up rather quickly, I am rather fond of the fact that I can get free cups of tea by working here,” said Mycroft. He quickly put the mop and bucket into the storage cupboard when Greg had indicated that he had finished cleaning.  He thanked him quietly and passed him the takeaway cup and which  Greg put the milk and three sugars in his tea.

Mycroft struggled to put the lid on his own cup, it was something that he always had difficulty with and he always managed to spill tea on his clothes when he tried to drink.  Greg took the cup from him and placed the lid on tight for him, his hand brushing against Mycroft’s own.

 

“I guess that this is the last bit of teamwork for the night,” Greg replied with a small grin as he handed the cup back to Mycroft.

 

That small gesture, even if it was so simple, felt like electricity and that the world had stopped for one brief moment.

 

Mycroft quietly thanked him before he went to the storage cupboard where he kept his coat and his umbrella and took his time getting himself ready in the attempt to understand what was going on. He counted to one hundred before he left the cupboard and switched off the lights to the shop. Greg was outside the shop smoking, clearly waiting for him. Mycroft walked out of the shop and stuck the key through the letterbox and opened up his umbrella in the attempt to shield himself against the light drizzle of rain that was falling.

 

“Fancy a smoke?” Greg asked, offering Mycroft the box of cigarettes, a cheap brand by the look and smell of the box.

 

“I shouldn’t,” Mycroft commented before he had taken one of the cigarettes from the box. He smelt the cigarette discreetly before it was lit, Greg’s hand protecting his flame from his lighter against the wind. He took a puff of his cigarette and coughed a little, it didn’t agree with him. He still smoked like a beginner.

 

He put out his cigarette on the brick wall and disposed of it appropriately, as Greg looked at him with amusement painted over his features as he put out his own cigarette. “I hope that you didn’t mind me bothering you this evening. I stuck a fiver in the tip jar when you were getting your coat, that should make up for me using the internet all afternoon. My internet is terrible and I can’t study in the library, people never follow the no talking and no phone rules.”

 

“I can easily say that you have been the most considerate customer that I’ve had in the time I’ve been working here,” Mycroft replied.  “It was kind of you to provide assistance even though it was unneeded.”

 

“It’s not like I had anything better to do tonight anyway,” Greg replied with a shrug as he threw his rucksack over his shoulder.  “You are a pretty cool guy, Mycroft. Thanks for letting me stay and for the tea.”

 

He had never been thought of as being cool before. Mycroft didn’t know what to say and mumbled something in response. He had never had a customer who was this intreging before, a completle stranger who was just so warm and helpful towards him. He doubted that he would even see Greg again, or feel that jolt of electricty he felt ever again.

 

“I’ll let you get on with your night,” Greg replied, his cheeks starting to turn pink from the cold. “I’ll see you around , might even pop in again sometime soon.”

 

Greg turned his heel and he started to walk off to the bus stop. Mycroft watched him for a few moments and was surprised when Greg waved  to him once he got onto the double decker that appered. Mycroft had found himself waving back to him, and felt an inexpicable sense of sadness when the bus moved away.

 

He could not really process the events that had happened that evening. How he managed to contect with a stranger almost instatly since he had arrived in London. The feeling of  electricty running through his vains after a small and unmportant gesutre of kindness. There was the feeling of sadness and almost elation for the possibility of Greg visiting the shop again. It seeemed almost impossible to explain what happened that night.

 

The only thing that Mycroft was sure about was the fact that he had  a new reseason to enjoy work, and it wasn’t just the free tea and cake.


	2. The Second Visit.

The prospect of Greg visiting the Diogenes coffee house again had left a strange feeling that Mycroft had rarely experienced before. No matter how much he had put some thought into it, he could not understand it in the slightest. He couldn't understand what caused this strange feeling, or what it was exactly. The closest thing that he could compare it to, was the feeling of excitement and nervousness that he felt on the day of his exam results for his A-levels. He knew that he had done brilliantly on those and he already had an unconditional place for his first choice university, but there was that feeling of dread that was in the pit of his stomach regardless of how well he had done. A small niggle in the back of his head which told him that he missed a whole page of questions in an exam paper, or that he had just messed up an exam badly.  

The prospect of encountering Greg again had left that feeling of dread in his stomach. Mycroft tried to ignore the feeling, but it seemed to have grown as the days passed and Greg had not visited the shop that week.   Mycroft had tried not to be disappointed as the days passed and Greg had not popped into the shop. Mycroft knew that it was simply foolish to place his hopes on Greg visiting again. 

He knew that there was plenty of other coffee shops and stands in the whole of London. He knew that Greg was probably busy with his coursework and the fact that he probably had other places to go to. Regardless of how many times that he had scolded himself for his behaviour, his eyes still made their way to the door every time the bell rang in the hopes that it was Greg coming into the shop. He had even found himself more willing to work in the front and he had started to enjoy work more than before. It was the most concerning change to his behaviour. He was positive that his co-workers had definitely noticed the change in his behaviour and were starting to get concerned about him. 

"That is the twentieth time that you've done that today." Anthea looked up from the pile of dishes that she was scrubbing at. The dishwasher had been acting up again, and the repairman wasn't due to come for another week. She peeled off the yellow marigolds and passed them to Mycroft before pulling out her mobile.  

"I don't know what you are talking about," Mycroft replied with a sigh. He slipped on the gloves and he started to scrub at a plate. He kept his eye on the small hatch where the clean plates were stored and were able to be picked up from whoever was at the front, without having to walk into the kitchen for cups and plates. The hatch allowed him to keep an eye on the front of the shop, and more importantly, it allowed him to keep an eye on the door.

"Every time that bell rings, you keep looking at the door. It is almost Pavlovian," Anthea commented.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Mycroft repeated, his tone harsher than before. He avoided looking through the hatch and he paid great attention to the plate he was scrubbing at. The plate had melted cheese welded onto it, it was near impossible to get it clean without a machine. Mycroft focused on his plate in the attempt to avoid Anthea's eyes, he knew that she was smirking at him. 

"You are looking for someone." 

Mycroft sighed when he heard the smug tone in Anthea's voice. Despite the fact that she had her eyes glued to her phone, there was nothing that went passed her. She was the closest thing that he had to a friend since he moved to London, well actually, she was the first friend he ever really had. She did annoy him on a regular basis, daily in fact,  but she dealt with difficult customers for him. She confided to him about her boyfriend troubles and her flatmates, and it made Mycroft believe that she considered him a friend as well. 

"I am doing nothing of the sort," Mycroft replied sharply. He shot a deathly glare over to Anthea but it had no impact on her. 

"You do get some really lovely looking people here," Anthea commented. She picked up a tea towel and started to polish a large tray of cutlery. "What is she like? Is she someone who had been here before?"

Mycroft shifted uncomfortably. It wasn't something that had not mentioned before.  He had never made the habit of talking about his personal life. He scrubbed at the plate harder than intended. The only topic about his personal life that he had ever mentioned was his brother's antics, and he felt that he needed to do that as Sherlock had the habit of terrorising the coffee shop, demanding free cakes and desserts or at least the use of Mycroft's staff discount each time that he visited. 

The door creaked opened and the bell rang. Mycroft felt his eyes dart to the door, and he could hear Anthea mutter, 'twenty-one,' under her breath. Mycroft tried his best to ignore her and he sighed. It was Greg. Why did he have to come now? He had been hoping to be alone in the shop when Greg arrived, he had worked a situation out in his head. The conversations that they would have, the jokes that he would attempt to get Greg to laugh and so he could see that grin again, and perhaps the two of them would clean up again and they would have a smoke together before Greg got on the bus.  He didn't need Anthea smirking away and teasing him the moment that Greg left the shop.  

"Is that who you have been looking out for?" Anthea murmured as she threw the last spoon in the box. "No wonder you have been wanting to work at the front. I was the same when Stefan first started to come in. He was always so lovely and I hated it when Sally was working. I swear that shift when he wrote his number on a napkin, was the best one that I've ever had."

"You need to go out and serve," Mycroft quickly said, in a whisper. He darted away from the hatch so that Greg couldn't get a glimpse of him. Thankfully, Greg was inspecting the cakes and didn't seem to notice him. 

He couldn't serve Greg with Anthea around, it was awkward enough the first time that Greg was in the shop.  He wasn't even presentable, he had soup all over the front of his apron among with spilt milk, and yellow Marigolds on.   The shop had been quiet all day, and he did not see the point in changing aprons if he was washing dishes all day. He considered hiding in the storage cupboard or going for his break. He had built up seeing Greg again so much, that he didn't know what to do with himself when Greg walked through the door. 

"Don't you want to serve your bloke?" Anthea asked. 

Mycroft shook his head, "I have a lot of dishes to do," he said lamely. 

Anthea gave him an understanding look and she went over to the counter without saying anything. That was the thing about Anthea that Mycroft liked, she always knew when not to ask questions. It was something that Mycroft had always apricated. Unlike his other co-workers, especially Philip and Sally, Anthea never gave him grief if he felt too overwhelmed to serve and work at the front, there were many days when that happened, especially on days that he was stressed or he had a bad encounter with a customer, or the lunch rush was too intense and endless. Sometimes people were just too much for him to handle and Anthea seemed to understand that more than most, she would allow him to hide in the back if it was quiet and she would check up on him regularly with cups of tea.  He never knew that he had done to deserve her kindness, but it was something that he cherished. 

Mycroft had a perfect view of Greg from where he was standing as he dried clean dishes and put them on the hatch. He was wearing the leather jacket again with a pair of ripped jeans, and his hair looking stylishly messy. He had a look about him which made him look that he had rolled out of bed, but he managed to pull it off. Mycroft tried to hide the feeling of jealousy when Greg had shot Anthea that charming grin, the one that he had given Mycroft last week. He wanted to be the one who served him, the one who got to speak to Greg, the one who Greg gave that charming grin to. He tried to hide the feeling of dread in his stomach, it was becoming impossible to ignore now. He didn't understand how he could handle a lunch rush by himself, but he couldn't even serve one customer now. Mycroft scolded himself for his behaviour and he picked the breakfast tray with a thick layer of grease to clean as punishment. 

Greg was studying again, his face contorted with concentration as he highlighted and took notes from his textbook. Mycroft didn't know if he was being hopeful or not, but he believed that Greg was looking out for him occasionally. He would look up from his textbook and he would scan the shop before looking back down, almost looking disappointed.  Mycroft wasn't sure if he had been delusional not, he started to believe that he had been spending too much time smelling the cleaning chemicals that morning. 

 

It was bitterly cold outside as Mycroft went out for his break, his coat didn't offer that much protection from the harsh winds. He sat on the bench which was hidden by the side of the shop and smoked his afternoon cigarette and ate his bacon sandwich. He had been trying to cut back on his smoking earlier that year, but the habit was coming back especially with the stress of deadlines from the university along with other matters. He tried to study for his economics exam but it was too cold to focus, his frozen fingers made using his phone a lot more challenging. 

Mycroft gave up on studying when he realised that he was not getting anywhere with his work. His bacon sandwich was lukewarm and he had neglected it for his tea, the warmth of the cup seeped into his cold hands, helping to relieve the ache. He did consider going back inside and eating lunch in the shop, but he had been craving a cigarette all morning, and he needed one to calm his nerves. 

He blew a large cloud of smoke and smiled a little to himself even though no one was there to witness it. He liked sitting in this spot, it allowed him to people watch while it allowed him to go unnoticed by passers-by. It was the designated smoking area of the coffee shop which was rarely used, customers tended to just pop in and out of the shop or they stayed in the shop and lingered.

He sighed as he saw Christmas lights starting to get put up on the street. It was far too early for that, and he noticed several people walk past with bags of shopping, presumably gifts for the holiday. He smiled a little when several dogs walked passed, wagging their tails furiously at something, perhaps it was just the prospect of going for a walk. He wondered what he would by Sherlock for Christmas, nothing too dangerous or nothing that would explode. He still hadn't forgiven Sherlock for burning his best jumper with the chemistry set that his parents bought for him. He had asked Sherlock what he wanted, and his brother told him that he wanted a skull or some kidneys to experiment on. Mycroft considered just buying him a copy of Treasure Island and some chocolate, it was the safer option. 

"Mind if I join?" 

Mycroft was taken out of his thoughts when he heard that familiar voice. He had been too caught up in his people watching to notice, Greg standing by the bench. He shot Mycroft that charming grin before he sat down and Mycroft could only nod. 

"How's it going by the way? I've not seen you in the shop," Greg asked. He pulled out a cigarette and he patted his pocks before sighing. "Do you happen to have a lighter? I've must have left mine at home."

Mycroft nodded before he pulled out a lighter from his jacket pocket and he pulled out a cigarette for himself. The previous one was going to be his last cigarette but he needed another to calm down the sudden burst of nerves that he felt. Greg tried to talk to him and asked him a few more questions as he raked through his pockets, but he lost his words.

He fumbled with the lighter with his stiff and clumsy fingers, requiring a few attempts to flick the lighter, before he held the lighter out for Greg. Greg's hand covered the lighter in the attempt to protect it against a strong wind,  his hand lightly brushed his own as his lit his cigarette, and Mycroft lit his.  Mycroft placed the cigarette between his lips and quickly pulled his hand away and shoved the lighter in his jacket pocket. 

"How is going by the way?" Greg asked again. He took a puff of his cigarette and blew it out with a sigh. "I've got an essay which is going to be the death of me."

"I'm fine," Mycroft murmured, his voice was barely there but he was able to get some words out this time.  He kept his eyes firmly to the ground and focused on the soup splatter on his shoe.

"I was hoping to see you today, " Greg said, giving him a small smile. "Andrea doesn't make tea as good as you. Every cup of tea that I've had this week has been disappointing. I don't know what you do."

"Anthea," Mycroft replied. "She doesn't like it when people get her name wrong." 

"I'll keep that in mind then." Greg finished his cigarette in a few puffs before he stomped it out in the ground. Mycroft did the same even though he had barely touched his own.  "Anthea told me that I would find you here. I was needing to find your tea making secrets."

"I don't do anything special...I just warm up the cup," Mycroft said awkwardly, as he averted his eyes when Greg smiled at him. "Tea is always better when it is made in a teapot. "

Greg nodded and he seemed to take his comment seriously. "I might have to try it sometime.  I think that my mum has got a teapot kicking about the house, I might try it out when I'm next at home, or I take her to one of those tea rooms, she does love an afternoon tea, she always goes with auntie Caroline every week and my sister. I am sure that she won't mind me tagging along." 

Mycroft had become aware of the fact that he had barely spoken, feeling that he had lost his voice completely. He checked his watch and he let out a sigh, he still had another twenty minutes on his break. Greg seemed to not be bothered by the cold and he seemed to be content sitting on the bench next to him and watching the world go by.

"Has it been a busy day for you?" Greg asked after a few moments. 

Mycroft shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Not particularly.  The cold weather is keeping people in today, or they are doing their Christmas shopping. The coffee shop is a bit out of the way from all the main shopping areas.  So it has just been a cleaning day today."

"One of those days," Greg nodded, he smiled a little to himself. "My work was one of those the other day. I just worked on some notes for a lecture and ate three scones before I could go home early. Mrs Hudson is such a sweet thing to let me do that."

"I've managed to do some revision for my exams this morning. I started at seven this morning, and barely any customers have walked in today." 

"Then you must be glad to have my custom then," Greg chuckled a little. 

His laugh was warm and it was a sound that Mycroft enjoyed, he huffed out a breath of laughter. He managed to have found his own voice once more, as he quietly spoke to Greg about his studies and asked the appropriate questions. He discovered that Greg did enjoy talking about himself and he seemed to have a certain curiosity about Mycroft's life. It was strange, no one had really made the effort to know him before. 

He dreaded the end of his break and when he had to go back to work.  He sighed when he realised that he had gone over his twenty minutes. He checked the shop window and was relieved that no one else was in the shop. Anthea was sitting on the sofa and she was texting away on her phone. She probably wouldn't have minded that he had overrun his break, she had been on a constant break since she arrived at nine. 

"I should get back to the books," Greg said with a large sigh. He stood up and he brushed off his trousers. "Are you in for the rest of the day? "

Mycroft nodded and held open the door as he walked back into the shop. Greg quietly thanked him as he shrugged off his jacket and made his way back to his table. 

"Hope you don't mind me staying for a bit longer," Greg said. "I am needing one of your amazing cups of tea. I might need a few of them."

Mycroft tried to believe that the colour of his cheeks was due to the cold, and it was nothing else.  He did his best to ignore Anthea's knowing smirk which she gave him as he walked back into the kitchen and put on his apron so he could make some tea for Greg.  

 

"You look a bit more cheerful since you've come back from your break," Anthea commented as she shrugged on her coat. "Are you sure that it is fine for me to go? Will you be alright?" 

"Anthea, it isn't like it has been busy, and you have been complaining about wanting to go home since five past nine," Mycroft commented. There was an hour left until the doors closed and Mycroft was positive that there wasn't going to be any more customers for the day. There was a possibility that Sherlock would come in demanding cakes but he always did that on Monday afternoons and Saturday mornings, and the occasional Wednesday.  He wanted to avoid the interrogation from Anthea and had offered to close up in the attempt to avoid her questions for the rest of the day. He knew that she would be interrogating him through text messages, and a further interrogation on Monday afternoon when they next had a shift together.

 "I know," Anthea sighed, "I'm just making sure that you will be alright, especially with your man in the shop." 

Mycroft let out a pained sigh and he tried to not roll his eyes. "He is not "my man," Anthea. I don't know where you got the idea from. He is just a very nice customer."

"A very nice looking one! You are so cute at times, Myc," Anthea laughed as she threw her bag over her shoulder. "I will be in later tomorrow, thanks for letting me shoot off."

Mycroft tried to shoo her out of the shop and rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nickname she had christened him with on his first shift. "Send my regards to Stewart." He had come across her boyfriend once and he had thought that he was an idiot, but it felt like the best thing to say. 

"It's Stefan," Anthea corrected as she left the door. "Make sure to take the recycling out and put some of those muffins to the side, your brother will be wanting them tomorrow morning. " 

Mycroft rolled his eyes but he waved her off, as she waved at him with a smile on her face. Mycroft made his way to the front and he started to tidy up the front. He could probably get away with cleaning up early and he would be set to close the doors the minute that the clock hit five. 

"What are the best cakes here?" Greg asked as he closed his book with a loud bang. "I've given up on this completely. I'm going to fail and I'm going to have to be a goat farmer."

Mycroft gave the matter some serious thought for a moment. "Raising llamas would be a better career, especially from an economic standpoint. " 

Greg let out a bark of a laugh, and Mycroft took some pride in the fact that he managed to make Greg laugh. He smiled discreetly as he wiped the counter. 

Greg walked up to the counter and he investigated the cakes, almost as if it was a life-changing decision that he was making.  "What do you recommend? "

"I like the blueberry scones," Mycroft gestured to the scones in the cabinet, there was a whole cake stand of them left from earlier on that day. He was going to take a few of them home, they were his favourite and Mark, the man who made them, was certainly talented. He had ruined all other scones for Mycroft, and he had never seemed to enjoy any other scones anymore, his mother's scones were the only other ones that he still enjoyed.  "The Victoria sponge is also rather good. Sally does have a talent for making cakes, it almost redeems her for how awful she can be at times." 

"Might go for the scone, it is a bit healthier as it's got fruit in it.  If I stick jam on my scone, then it is two of my five-a-day.  Greg commented.  "Is it just you closing up again?" 

Mycroft nodded as he fetched out a scone, he made a cup of tea as well but didn't charge him for it.  Greg wordlessly paid for the scone and he stuck way too much change in the tip jar once more. Mycroft watched him go over to his table and munch at his scone.  He made himself his own cup of tea and watched him with a look of amusement as he waited for his tea to brew.

"This is the best scone that I've had," Greg moaned through a mouthful of scone,  Mycroft tried to not focus on the splatter of jam that was on the corner of his mouth. "I really could have used a few of these when I was actually attempting to study. I've been putting it off heavily since our break." 

"Anthea seemed to enjoy talking to you," Mycroft commented. He debated if he should sit down or not. He was eventually temped over to an armchair by Greg, who was lounging on the sofa. It wouldn't hurt to sit down for at least a few minutes. He was going to be closing up soon. He did fold up his apron neatly and place it on the back of the chair. 

"She is lovely, I think that I've seen her around before. I think that we go to the same clubs," Greg commented with a small smile. 

"Oh?" Mycroft said, frowning a little, suddenly fearing the worst. He tried to push away his insecurities and forced himself to drink his tea in the attempt to hide the disappointed look on his face. "

"Have you been working with her for long?" Greg asked after a moment of silence. He took a long sip of tea and he let out a small noise as it hit his throat. "That is an amazing cuppa, Mycroft. " 

"I've been here for six months," Mycroft replied. "I managed to get a job before term started, I wanted to be settled into the city before I started university." 

Greg nodded with great interest. "It seems like a really lovely place that you work in. If you don't mind me asking, when are you next in? It's just nice to have a friendly face around these parts. It is really nice to study here as well, I find that the other coffee places are too loud and they are so busy all the time, and I can't afford to spend a fortune of a Frap-a-something from Starbucks all the time." 

"I only work Saturdays and on Monday and Thursday afternoons," Mycroft placed his tea on the table, using a napkin as a make-shift coaster. "Univeristy keeps me busy and I have other commitments and a brother to deal with. " 

"I might just have to pop in during Thursday,  only if you don't mind?" Greg licked the smear of jam that was on the corner of his mouth. "It is just such a lovely place to visit, not to mention your tea making abilities."

"That would be fine," Mycroft quickly replied. "I would like that." 

He pretended to not notice the effect that Greg's grin had on him, and how he noticed that his ears and his cheeks went pink as he caught his reflection on the metal of the coffee machine. Greg wordlessly helped to tidy up at the end of the day once the last of their tea had been drunk and after Greg had eaten two more scones.

They were out of the door for five o'clock on the dot.  Mycroft made them cups of tea and Greg's hand brushed his once more when he assisted with the lid of the takeaway cup, and Mycroft felt the strike of electricity once more. He didn't say anything about it to Greg, questioning if he felt it too or if he felt that the world had stopped for a brief moment. Even though Mycroft was so tempted to ask and the question was on the tip of his tongue, he swallowed it down and quietly thanked Greg for his assistance with the lids. The two of them shared a smoke before Greg departed for the bus, and waved him goodbye with that grin on his face. Mycroft adored that grin, finding it amazing that he could conjure a smile like that from Greg. He had little to no idea how he managed to do it, but he knew that something must have been working.

Thursday couldn't come quick enough. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
